(Home) To Orange Walls and Evil Overlords
by The Self-Proclaimed Book Whore
Summary: "Don't do that to us again, Probie, okay? You have no idea what it was like to see you there, dying and hallucinating and completely delirious and all you could say was how much you loved us all, that we were your family and you had no idea why we love you so much." Tim gets shot and drugged, these are the records on his crazed ramblings. Team Family. Rated for swears. Tim!WHUMP.


**Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,**

 **I wrote most of this ages ago, but it took me forever to tweak and change the bits I didn't like.**

 **It's not tagged to any specific episode or season, but it's after quite a bit after Vance became Director and before Ziva left.**

 **See the end for an explanation of the fic if it doesn't really make any sense.**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: Alludes to suicide and past abusive familial relationships, nothing graphic and not within the team.**

* * *

Tim knew that he was sitting down, and that he was also bound down to whatever it was he was sitting in. What he didn't know was how he had gotten that way.

He remembered being at the Yard and then Gibbs saying something about murder … or was it drugs … maybe it was both…

That was about it.

"You know," he said lightly as the people, well he was assuming they were people, came into his cell, or wherever they were holding him. "If Tony were here, he would say this is all kind of kinky; me tied up and you doing your thing."

There was a faint pricking on his arm. "Seriously?" he demanded, determinedly ignoring the headache inducing throbbing in his shoulder. "If you're going to hurt me at least have the balls to do it properly."

"Although," he let his head loll to the right. "From what you assholes did to my shoulder maybe you do know a bit about hurting people…" he trailed off, noticing how his words were slurring together.

"Oh, you fucking twat," he spat, the slurring getting rapidly more pronounced. "Those better not be crazy drugs. I swear to god if those are crazy drugs I'm'a gonna kill you … rip ya stupi' hea's off…"

* * *

"You are so friggin' lucky those weren't crazy drugs."

They hadn't been. Tim didn't really know how long he'd been out of it, but it had been long enough for them to lie him down. He also knew he hadn't been awake long before they came back. The only things he could hear were the muted sounds of people talking almost entirely drowned out by some mysterious loud wailing.

"And just because I'm a nice guy I'm moving you down on the NCIS MCRT scale of crazy-shit. Tony and I made it up on a stakeout. Ziva said we were idiots and Gibbs told us through head-slap speak to shut up and get back to work when we told them. It works though, hasn't failed us yet."

He flinched as they surrounded him. "Before you were on the Dearing level of shit, but because you didn't give me any crazy drugs I'm going to be generous and move you down to the Plague level of shit."

"It's not a good place to be," he informed them as they were moved him from whatever he was lying strapped to. "The only things shittier on the scale of shit are Dearing then Parsa then Kort, Ussuf and Ari … oh and Reynosa's in there somewhere between Kort and Ari. Okay, so maybe you're not actually that high up on the shit scale."

There was another prick, this time in his neck. "You bastards…" was all he got out.

* * *

"Tony is going to find you and when he does it is not gonna be pretty." Tim said defiantly when they came back.

"See, he has this thing, and we call it his Probie-sense, 'cause I'm his Probie and he always knows when I need him."

"It goes the other way too, I know when he needs me, I was the only one who didn't think he was dead when the CI-friggin-A blew up his car, no one believed me, not even Gibbs and even after Ducky did the autopsy I just knew he wasn't dead, they didn't believe me. Ducky said it was most likely him, after the autopsy, but I knew it wasn't. I read the autopsy report and I was right," Tim laughed bitterly.

"The guy in Tony's car, his lungs were perfect. Tony doesn't have perfect lungs, he had the plague. His lungs are scarred. It's why I had a scalpel in my belt, you fuckers weren't expecting that, were you."

He sniggered, a smirk on his face. "Tony's lungs are pretty fucked and that means he could stop breathing easier and CPR might not be enough, he might need and trashy … a trachy … a breathing tube, had one of them in my belt too. It's what Brad Pitt said, the doctor not the actor. So I got lessons, just in case … I don't want to lose another partner, not again," he mumbled.

"I really need him right now," Tim whispered, feeling something hot and wet trickling from the corner of his eyes.

* * *

Tim woke back up to a burning pain in his shoulder.

"You assholes," he said through clenched teeth. "You utter fucking wankers. That shoulder is broken … or shot ... or something, I don't know. But there isn't much more you can do to fuck that shoulder up."

"No," he tried to squirm away as one of them came closer to him with something in their hand. "Do not come at me with whatever that thing is…" he screamed in pain as the one with the thing stuck it into his shoulder.

"Ducky is going to kill you," he spat as soon as he could through laboured breathes. "Ducky is a freaking ME and he could have done that less painfully."

He snarled when one of them came closer to him again.

"Ducky's gonna be so pissed, he seems like a gentle old guy but he's got one hell of an evil streak in him. You better hope he doesn't get to you, 'cause Ducky knows how to mentally _and_ physically fuck a guy over."

"One time," he gasped. "Ducky chemically paralysed a suspect and shut him in an autopsy draw and then when he was awake Ducky took him out and drew all over him in sharpie, explaining in extreme detail how the autopsy would go and Jimmy was there too. He was on the other side of the little fucker setting stuff up. Jimmy was scary as fuck he was, holding up the bone saw and other things in that freaky way … it was all very horror movie. One of the guys from accounting walked past and saw what they were doing, idiot asked me if Jimmy was a psychopath or schizophrenic."

"I thought it was funny 'cause Jimmy's the normal one of us, you know…"

* * *

"You cut me off," Tim accused when he woke up again.

"I was telling you all about how awesome and normal Jimmy is. I suppose compared to the rest of us it's not that hard to be normal but still."

"He's normal, you see, because Abby's the happiest Goth you'll ever meet and she bowls with nuns and loves puppies and can kill without leaving any forensic evidence. And then there's Ducky, he's like this awesome English grandpa with the stories and everything, he has more stories than Rome had problems. He talks to corpses, people think he's odd but it's kinda cool. And Ziva's a friggin' ninja, she's ex-Mossad but we don't care 'cause she's one of us now and that's all that matters. And Gibbs is …well, he's Gibbs, 'nuff said."

"Tony seems pretty normal but you've only got to spend a couple days with him, to realise that he should be dead. I mean he had the plague for fuck's sake. The honest-to-god plague, _bubonic plague_ , good ol' Y-pestis, the fucking plague. And the CIA blew up his car, the CIA are a bunch of dicks 'cause they also accused him of murder, I blame Kort, that one-eyed wanker just hates us. And of course he let himself get kidnapped by terrorists in bloody Somalia, though to be fair I _was_ right there beside him…" Tim frowned, thinking.

"But that's neither here nor there … nor anywhere," he giggled a bit before continuing. "It's obvious that he should be dead a bajillion times over, but he's not and I'm so freaking happy about that. You shouldn't be because he's going to find you and when he does he's gonna hurt you so friggin bad. He told me, no one's allowed to hurt his Probie."

"That's me, just so you know. I'm his Probie."

"I'm not that normal either. I'm a geek with a gun who writes bestselling novels. I'm too much of an adrenalin junkie to be a geek and I'm too much of a geek to be a real field agent, I'm not like Tony and Gibbs and Ziva. I'm different. Don't fit in, never have … but I do with them."

"Jimmy's normal though. No fucked up family issues, no psycho ex-girlfriends, none of that stuff. His fiancée is a lovely _normal_ woman and they're going to have a fairy-tale wedding and the perfect 2.3 kids who will grow up with a white-picket fence and Sunday roast each week. And if anyone ever hurt them, they'll have an ME, a forensic scientist and four federal agents, none of whom have any qualms about tweaking the law if they have to. They'll grow up and take over the family business which … which is a funeral house, because she's a mortician and he's a medical examiner. Alright, maybe they're not so normal then."

* * *

"Seriously, you asshats, what's with the drugs?" Tim asked when he was brought back to consciousness by being dropped onto something hard.

"Either keep me unconscious or stop drugging me asleep. And by the fact that you keep druging me when I'm awake and talking you'd think you'd want me unconscious just to shut me up."

"Oh for…" he snarled as he began slipping away again. "Make up your friggin' minds…"

* * *

"You know, if Ziva were here … well, actually if you idiots had actually tried to capture Ziva she'd have escaped within minutes using only a paperclip. She's a bad ass ninja like that. She can kill 18 different ways with a paperclip. She threatens to show me and Tony every other day, but I know she won't really do it … I hope."

"I love Ziva, she's like the kick ass sister I never hard … except I do have a sister but she hates me. But it's okay 'cause I've got Ziva instead. Ziva cooks the best food you know, fresh and full of spices and awesomeness. I liked it when she wore cargo-pants all the time … her kick ass cargo pants … her hair all wild and natural. Director David never deserved having her as a daughter, but I think it's kinda a rule, 'you gotta have daddy issues if you're gonna be on Gibbs' team'."

* * *

"I miss them," Tim whispered as his voice began to croak from over use and no water.

"I miss Tony's annoying jokes and stupid stories of his latest conquest. I miss him calling me Probie or whatever new McNickname he's come up with. I miss Gibbs' head slaps and functional muteness. I miss Ziva's shit scary driving. I miss listening to Ducky's stories and Jimmy's entirely inappropriate comments."

"I'd even let Abby hug me right now. I don't like Abby's hugs, but I let her hug me 'cause it makes her feel better. I don't actually remember anyone hugging me before Abby … well, there was Kelly but I don't think she really counts 'cause it was only that one day."

Tim sniffed, remembering her. "I'd even let Tony kiss my head," he laughed softly, the rough sound mingling badly with the steady beeping in the room, but Tim figured it was probably in his head.

"Hell, I miss those stupid pumpkin orange walls, I even miss Director Vance. Not meant to miss him, he's the Director which means he's the Evil Overlord, but Vance is different. He's nice, he cares. Morrow didn't, he was a cold bastard and Shepard, she was just a bitch," Tim coughed, swatting sluggishly at the person hovering over his head. "I don't care that she was a Director or that she and Gibbs have history; she was a shitty Director and an all-round bitch."

"She almost got Tony killed … a lot of times, and she made him lie to us," Tim turned his head to look at the person sitting next to him. "She got my best friend almost killed … she's the reason I almost lost my brother…"

The person beside him took Tim's hand, holding on when he resisted the touch but there wasn't much Tim could do as sleep overtook him once more.

* * *

"I'm tired."

The person moved into the corner of his eye but Tim ignored him and kept talking.

"Only been this tired once before in my life … almost didn't end good."

* * *

"I want to go home…" Tim whispered, his entire body shaking, his voice raspy.

* * *

Something poked into the crook of his arm and the minute it did Tim knew bad things were going to happen. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he tried to demand, but it came out all jumbly through gasps of pain.

And he really didn't think he could hurt anymore than it already does, but there's this annoying, piercing noise and he thinks people are yelling but he can't really hear it over that other noise and everything hurts so much…

* * *

Kate is as beautiful as Tim remembers. There's no hole in her head like there was when he went to see her in autopsy and Tim is so immensely thankful of that as she runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck as he stumbles back from her enthusiasm.

 _Oh, god._ He realises numbly. _They gave me the crazy drugs, those sons of bitc…_

 _Those absolute fuckers,_ he thinks he spots Shepard over there in the distance watching the two of them silently, an arrogant look on her face but Tim forgets about her as he is tackled around the waist by a tornado of red and giggles. Mike is there too, picking him up by his shoulders and calling him Probie's Probie, which for some reason Tim doesn't mind, even though the only person allowed to call him Probie is Tony.

Tim doesn't know how, and puts it down to the drugs that they randomly appear on the roof of the Yard at sunset with a picnic basket. And Mike shamelessly flirting with Kate who blushes and Kelly is sitting in his lap telling them all storied and Tim thinks that just maybe the crazy drugs aren't so bad after all.

* * *

" _You fuckers,_ " he spits when he wakes up next and the crazy drugs aren't in him anymore.

"You sons of a Klingon whore. You motherfucking, Orc sucking asshats. You Voldemort obsessed, Dementor hugging bastards," he rants angrily, and loudly. Or as loud as he can with a throat that feels as if he's been drinking shards of glass and uranium.

He resists against the multiple hands pushing him down.

"We had an agreement, you sick freaks. I would let you stay on the Plague level of shit and you wouldn't give me the crazy drugs. And don't you bloody dare say you didn't 'cause I know you did."

Tim was aware of the hot, wet tears streaming down his face. "I saw Kate and Mike and Kelly, you stupid fuckers. Which means you gave me crazy drugs because _they're all dead_ ," the last words came out slightly hysterical but Tim couldn't really care about that as the hands finally won against his exhausted body.

"It was supposed to be me," he said brokenly. "Sometimes I wish it had been, but she's dead. Ari shot her right in the head. He was going to kill me but I moved 'cause of the other terrorist, so he shot her instead; right in front of Gibbs and Tony. And Kelly got blown up by the Reynosa's … didn't know about that till a couple years ago, and Mike got stabbed by a psycho … CIA again, I told you they were dicks."

"They're all dead and you promised me no crazy drugs."

* * *

"I really don't care anymore." Tim laughed bitterly through his tears. "I wish Tony would find me…"

* * *

"I was over it all," Tim croaked, not bothering to even try moving. "I had everything planned out. Was walking off base to do it, it was a busy road and she'd gotten separated from her dad. Miracle neither of us got hit. Her dad was so worried about her … she convinced him to let me join their picnic. Never seen him cave to anyone, let alone so fast. I never remembered his name but I never forgot hers. Kept wanting to know how he could repay me, didn't know how to say he already had. He and his little girl saved my life."

"'s why I joined NCIS, so I could protect little girls like her." Tim was vaguely aware of a hand on his face as he drifted back into unconsciousness. "It was nice, pretending I wasn't related to the Admiral, he was an abusive fuck, Kelly was lucky…"

"You never really appreciate how wonderful pain is until you stop caring about everything."

* * *

"I didn't get it at first, why they cared," Tim rasped wearily. "Didn't realise they cared 'cause they were a family … and that they included me in that."

"Never really got families full stop. Family always meant pain to me. It's nice having a family that actually cares. I really love 'em, you know. Scares me 'cause it's not going to last … never lasts."

"I wouldn't be completely opposed to the crazy drugs anymore."

* * *

Tim woke up slowly for once, with his eyes shut he could feel his right arm immobilised against his chest. The stiff sheets and chemically-clean smell lingering in the air made it obvious that he was in a hospital.

It took a moment for him to realise that the weight on his face was coming from a large, calloused hand resting on his forehead, the thumb rubbing soothing circles at the corner of his eye.

Letting his head fall to the side he glanced along the arm attached to the hand to see Gibbs sitting slumped over in a chair.

His lips painfully stretched into a small smile as his eyes drooped back shut. The last thing he saw was the bright blue of Gibbs' eyes widening in shock as the ex-Marine shot to his feet, the blanket that had been draped over him falling to the floor.

* * *

The next time he woke up he Tony was sitting in the chair next to his bed instead of Gibbs.

The older man was reading aloud from a novel, he smiled softly when he realised Tony was reading an early attempt at what had become the inspiration for Deep Six. "I think the father did it, don't you Probie?" Tony said, breaking off from reading a witness' report and not looking up. "You really should have picked something less obvious than the father who didn't know he was the father accidentally killing his own son. I mean so many possibilities; the babysitter, the weird brother… ohhh, the attorney, that would have been interesting."

"Youngest … daughter…" Tim managed to rasp out, surprising Tony into sending the book flying across the room as he shot to his feet in a hurry to get to Tim.

"Hey, hey… stay with me," Tony pleaded, dropping to his knees beside the hospital bed, a hand coming up to rest on Tim's face.

"Not going anywhere," he says. Or tries to say, it comes out all slurry and rough and his voice breaking horribly so it's more of a, "ntgnyhre," before he starts coughing, deep and aching and rattling sounds.

Tony lifts him up gently, taking most of Tim's weight on his own body as he moves to sit on the bed. "You're good, you're okay. Just ride it through…" Tony keeps up a litany as Tim keeps coughing, his forehead resting against Tony's shoulder, strong and shaking arms encircling him.

Finally he stops and Tony stretches an arm away just enough to grab the cup of ice chips sitting in the table next to what Tim assumes is coffee. Ever so gently Tony feeds him half of the ice chips, all the while keeping up a ramble of words that Tim only half hears and understands even less.

When he sets the cup back down Tony finally looks Tim in the eyes and Tim gives him a small, exhausted smile that breaks him.

" _Christ, Tim,_ " Tony breathes and then there are silent tears slipping down his face as he presses a sloppy kiss to somewhere above Tim's ear. Tim's body shakes from the points where he is pressed up against Tony who is sniffling as he rocks Tim. Tim, making a soft, distressed, sound in the back of his throat, struggles to free an arm, clumsily reaching up a hand to wipe away the wetness on Tony's face.

Tony set him back down on the bed, making reassuring sounds, a hand carding through Tim's hair. "It's okay, Tim. I promise. I'm fine, everything's fine. Shh, shh, we're okay. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Tim can't figure out why Tony's crying and struggles pointlessly against Tony who manages to keep him to the mattress with minimal effort. It can't be Gibbs, Tim distinctly remembers seeing him the last time he woke up. "Team…" he croaks and Tony immediately understands.

"No, no, no," he denies, quick to reassure Tim. "No one's dead, I swear. The team's fine, everyone's fine."

Tim nods; a tiny motion, barely there, but a nod nonetheless. "Wha' h'ppn'd?" he asks.

Tony gives him a painful grimace of a smile. "It was a revenge thing, these guys from back before you and even K.. Kate," Tony says softly, reluctant to tell Tim but knowing he would find out some way or another and that if it were him Tim would tell him. "It was meant to be me, it should have been me. I'm so sorry Tim…"

Tim made a noise of denial, slowly moving his arm so his hand flopped onto of Tony's, the one that wasn't running through his hair. Tony, understanding what Tim was trying to do, flipped his hand so his palm faced up and curled his fingers up so they intertwined with Tim's before continuing.

"They shot you from behind and broke your shoulder before injecting you full of a cocktail of drugs, Abby was apocalyptic when she analysed the mixture and then they left you to die. The doctors couldn't do anything except let the drugs run their path and then when they did you almost slipped through their fingers. We almost lost you, Tim. But we found you, and you're fine, you'll get better."

His voice is thick with guilt and fear, his words slowly making sense in Tim's mind and when they do he reaches up with his free hand to gently pat the side of Tony's face in what he hopes comes across as comforting and forgiving and _thankful_ and everything else he wants to say but can't because it just hurts _so_ bad trying to speak.

Tony seems to understand because he lets out another sob and leans over the bed to press his forehead to Tim. "Don't do that to us again, Probie, okay?" he whispers, cupping Tim's face in both his hands. "God, you have no idea what it was like to see you there, dying and hallucinating and completely delirious and all… all you could say was how much you loved us all, that we were your family and you had no idea why we love you so much."

"The doctors had to send the nurses away, they kept crying so much, and a whole lot of the people from the Yard came by, you don't realise how many people care for you, Tim."

"I think…" he swallows before starting again. "I think you broke Gibbs, he turned up a couple days ago at the Yard with red eyes and bandages around his knuckles, Ziva and I think he was crying. Doc Pitt said he stormed out if here after you woke up once and tried to punch a brick wall into submission. No one knows what you said but Ducky had that look on his face whenever they talk about Kelly and Shannon."

Tim eye's probably closed for longer than was acceptable for it just being a blink because Tony was tapping lightly on his cheek. "Don't go anywhere," he begged, the words coming out in a rush. "I know it's a lot to ask and it hurts and you need rest, but please don't go where we can't follow. We need you, Tim. I need you. Stay with us…"

Tim gives him a tired smile as Tony sits up, taking his hand again before Tim has to struggle to get to it and find some grounding.

"To-ny," he says, careful to say it properly even though there's still a hint of a slur. "T'nks fer f'nding me, bringin' me home."

"Always, Tim," Tony whispers as Tim drifts off on barely hearing the words. "It's what my Probie sense is for. I'll always bring you home."

* * *

Tim ends up spending a month staying Gibbs' spare room, the last couple days on light duty (desk only and not full days), before returning to his own flat, but even then Tony ends up staying over at his most nights.

It's almost three months after he finally woke up completely lucid that he returns to work completely, a couple days later than physically necessary because he had to re-cert for his gun and get clearance from the NCIS Psyc. guys.

But by that time Abby's already slipped him a USB, the note telling him that she and Ziva had set up a small recording device in his hospital, which means he now owns the sole copy of the recording of his delusional ramblings.

Twice he gets as far as opening the first file before he backs out, another five times he inserts the USB into a computer and almost a dozen times he just holds the damn thing, wondering if he _really_ wants to know what he said.

* * *

After the third time Gibbs merely gives him and Tony an odd look of what Tim can only describe as fond amusement after Tony calls Vance their 'Evil Overlord', does Tim decide he _really doesn't_ want to know and sticks the USB in the small safe in his apartment that he uses for his spare gun.

(He also doesn't understand the somewhat perverse amount of pleasure Tony gets from calling Kort a one-eyed wanker the next time they have to work with the CIA, or why Gibbs just snorts a laugh and smirks.)

* * *

 **Right, explanation time.**

 **Basically, some guys that Gibbs and Tony put away when they were a two man team came back for revenge and took it out on Tim. That first bit is when Tony, Gibbs and Ziva find him. The second is in the ambulance. From There on it's all in the hospital. The whole thing with Kate, Mike, Kelly and Shepard on top of the Yard is when he 'died', not 'crazy drugs'. I know in the lastish bit it seems a bit excessive about how long he stays at Gibbs' but in my mind Gibbs feels guilty and Tony, Ziva and Abby stay for most of that time too.**

 **To be honest I had a bit of fun writing a drugged and crazy Tim. The hardest part was writing the bit with Tony near the end, but I like that because I ended up spending a lot of time on it and I think it turned out pretty good with their epic bromance type thing they have.**

 **Till next time. :)**

 **-Nita**


End file.
